


You Whom I Seek Amongst the Stars

by seohoverse



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Except I don't mention it :D, Light Angst, Longing, M/M, Separations, This is clearly not my homework and yet here we are, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29691054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seohoverse/pseuds/seohoverse
Summary: Seoho continues to leave.And Geonhak?Geonhak stays, awaiting Seoho’s next return.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Lee Seoho
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	You Whom I Seek Amongst the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't mind this [gestures vaguely] thing I whipped up because I didn't want to do my homework or the other story that's currently sitting on my laptop.
> 
> (this has actually been chilling in my drafts for the past few days because I was either too scared to post it or too lazy)

It’s a full moon tonight.

There isn’t a trace of any clouds in the sky, either. It’s a luminescent light, and white streams of moonlight swim over the tree in which Geonhak sits, leg pulled up to his chest while the other one swings lazily off the branch he’s perched on. 

There isn’t a single warm breeze, and maybe Geonhak is thankful for that. The heatwaves lately have been unbearable, and any breeze that is merciful enough to pay them a visit is only able to emit warmth, not the tiniest fragment of nipping chills. 

Boredom takes a toll on him once again, and Geonhak finds himself with his chin tilted up as he counts as many of the stars that litter the sky as he can. It’s become the sole thing that is able to distract him and keep him interested for a period of time that isn’t a mere five minutes. 

The stars are rarely out these days, hidden behind the polluting gases of grenades and fires that have been set on properties. Half the land is either burnt, left with bloodshed dyeing the dried grassy patches or dirt scattered around holes that have been blown into the ground. 

Witnessing the stars in action has become sporadic, and for Geonhak to be seeing them with temporary peace as the crickets in the grass down below accompany him, is a blessing. 

_220, 221, 222…_

Wait, didn’t he already count that star?

Sighing, he gives up. He lets his eyelids fall shut as he leans against the rough bark of the tree that supports his weight. When his eyes open again, he glances back up at the stars, at the ones that dance closest to his eyes.

Almost as if he could reach out and touch them.

There is a saying in their village that Geonhak grew up hearing; it says that when you look among the stars, at the ones that rest closest to you, they can be connected with imaginary lines to form the face of the one you treasure most. 

It’s obviously a fib meant to entertain the younger generations, and Geonhak already learnt the truth many, many years ago. The truth isn’t amongst the stars, but in your own heart, and when you gaze upon the stars, they only shift and show you what you wish to see. It’s merely an illusion, a trick of the mind to portray something you already know, or refuse to believe. 

But, fib or not, it fills people with a sense of responsibility. It leaves them with hope, with love and wills to protect and swelling hearts.

It leaves Geonhak with yearning. 

He likes to think he’s good at keeping secrets, at hiding what little his heart is able to contain. So when they ask him if he ever sees the face of someone illustrated in the night sky, he shrugs.

He doesn’t tell them that he does.

He doesn’t tell them that he, too, has someone he treasures.

Someone whom he constantly misses, someone that he fears he won’t be able to keep. 

Because that is how cruel the universe is. It bestows happiness upon those it favours, and as for those who aren’t favoured, they’re neglected. They’re left with open palms as they await the fulfillment of their wishes that never comes. 

And Geonhak is sure he isn’t among those who are favoured.

At least, he hasn’t been shown any signs of it yet.

The quiet night isn’t as eerie as it is peaceful, the silence seeping into Geonhak’s system and leaving him with the want to take a quick nap. It isn’t safe, and he shouldn’t be out here. But the stillness around him deludes him, and for the moment—even if it’s temporary—he believes he’s safe.

In the end, he loses interest in tracing the face that hides amongst the stars and returns to counting them instead.

He doesn’t want to admit that it isn’t because he lost interest, but because he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to stare into those seemingly lively eyes that he knows aren’t actually there before he falls apart completely. After how long he took the last time to tighten the bonds around himself so he wouldn’t fall into ruins, he isn’t looking to loosen those bonds again.

_344, 345, 346…_

“How did I know you’d be here counting the stars again?”

Geonhak’s eyes slip from the stars and down to the owner of the voice who stands by the trunk of the tree, grinning up at him playfully. And Geonhak can’t believe his eyes because—

_No, it can’t be. There’s no way…_

But it is.

It’s really him.

And that’s all it takes for those knots that he’d tightened all on his own, the ones that kept him together, to unravel, leaving him bare and vulnerable. 

“Seriously, do you ever do anything else besides sit in trees and admire the polluted sky?” Seoho says distastefully, shaking his head.

As fast as his tears come, Geonhak blinks them away, turns his head in order to hide them—because Seoho is _here_. Finally here again. Not an illusion he wishes to touch that lays in the stars, but really here, within reach of him.

Out of all nights, Geonhak should’ve known Seoho would choose to return tonight. But no matter how transparent Seoho lets himself be before Geonhak, he still can’t seem to figure him out. 

He doesn’t remember the last time Seoho left. It might have been over a month ago, or maybe it was merely a week or two ago. Geonhak doesn’t remember. To him, time has simply been something that he could never fully grasp even with overstretched palms. And it slows when Geonhak wishes it would end and slips through his fingers when he wishes it would stop.

Taking in Geonhak’s silence, Seoho clucks his tongue and toes at the dry dirt. “Well? Are you going to come down or am I gonna have to come up?”

It’s all Geonhak needs to push himself off the branch and drop the two meters down. His landing is steady, having been perfected a long time ago, and he finds himself face-to-face with Seoho.

The _real_ Seoho.

“You changed your hair,” is the first thing Geonhak manages to say. It’s not what he wanted to say; it isn’t even among the top ten things he wished to say when he reunited with Seoho. But it slips out, anyway.

Gone are the faded orange roots he once sported, black taking its place. It’s the kind of black that shines and reflects under the dim light of the moon and stars. It looks soft.

“You know I only dyed it that colour for a dare. Besides, it didn’t even look that good.” 

_Yes, it did,_ Geonhak thinks. And it’s not because he’s biased and thinks any hair colour would look good on him; it really was a lovely colour on Seoho.

Though, when Geonhak voices this, Seoho rolls his eyes, and something in Geonhak’s chest contracts painfully. Now that he’s here, he’s realizing just how much he missed every little behaviour of Seoho’s. His kittenish smile is untouched, and he must still carry those lip balms around because his lips look silky, soft. He’s realizing how much he missed the skittish glint in Seoho’s eyes that still glimmers, and his nails that are still short and blunt from his terrible habit of picking at them subconsciously.

Geonhak’s finally realizing just how much he missed _Seoho_.

When Seoho willingly drops himself in Geonhak’s arms, Geonhak feels like he’s breathing again—as if he’d lost oxygen and hadn’t known until now. It’s a warm gust of wind that hits him in the face and fills his lungs, but Geonhak isn’t one to be greedy, so he tries to inhale slowly, tries to savour it as best as he can.

However, he’s always made sure his desires were met when it came to Seoho; Because, even with just him, Geonhak can greedily take and know Seoho will endlessly provide, and in return, he gives Seoho everything he has to offer.

The thin fabric of Seoho’s black button-down seems to serve little purpose as Geonhak pulls him closer to feel more of his warmth, more of him. Seoho’s arms come up and encircle his shoulders, and he nuzzles into Geonhak’s neck. Unbeknownst to him, Geonhak’s trying his best to suppress a tiny smile against his hair. 

Geonhak loses Seoho’s warmth all too soon, but he’s rewarded with the smile he’s missed so much, the one he could spend hours staring at and kissing off Seoho’s face.

“You’re gotten more beautiful,” Geonhak murmurs, and he thumbs at Seoho’s cheek.

Feigning hurt, Seoho pouts. “Are you saying I wasn’t as beautiful before?”

“Don’t twist my words. You know that’s not what I meant.”

At that, Seoho grins again and pulls Geonhak closer by the arms that still rest on his shoulder. “I know… I know it’s not.” And he’s got a mellow smile on his face that leaves Geonhak’s insides warm and fuzzy.

The final missing piece of Geonhak’s puzzle falls in place when he crashes their lips together with a hand on the back of Seoho’s head. Seoho doesn’t question the way Geonhak utterly ravishes him, his hands settling in the dip of Seoho’s waist. 

_Warm_.

Everything is warm. Around Geonhak, inside his chest, _Seoho_. It’s an overwhelming wave of warmth that washes over him every time Seoho is with him, enveloping him in a way that’s pleasantly suffocating, and Geonhak finds himself leaning into that suffocating warmth rather than trying to escape from it.

For a second, he fears this is all simply his imagination—that he isn’t actually here, holding Seoho in his arms the way he so wishes. 

But it’s not, and Seoho ensures him that it’s not by tilting his head to deepen the kiss, letting Geonhak press their bodies closer, _closer_ , until there’s not even the tiniest gap between them that remains. Seoho’s lips are just as soft as he remembers, like sitting on cotton clouds when the night is still young and bathing in the warm breeze.

Geonhak’s left craving for more when Seoho pulls away. He giggles upon catching Geonhak’s gaze. 

“Looks like you don’t need to search among the stars anymore because I’m here.”

And Geonhak merely watches, mesmerized.

“You are. You’re finally here.” 

_And I missed you. So much._

Out of all his companions, the stars are Geonhak’s closest friends, the ones that will gladly show him everything he wants to see. And he believes the stars are also what guides Seoho to him, what light up his path so he knows exactly where to find Geonhak. When he misses Seoho, he gazes at the stars, lets the stars swirl and morph until, in their place, rests Seoho’s grinning face. And he sneaks out despite the risks just to perch on a branch, waiting for Seoho’s arrival, hoping that every time he waits, Seoho will come.

He doesn’t need the stars anymore, though. Not tonight, at least, because he’s got exactly what the stars are merely capable of conjuring up in his head. With Seoho in his arms, he doesn’t need the morphing of the night sky.

And he only has the stars to thank for that. 

Geonhak drops his forehead so it rests gently against Seoho’s, letting their noses brush. “I missed you.”

He feels Seoho’s lips ghosting against his curl into a smile. “I know, me, too. I missed you, too.”

The words aren’t said easily, knowing Seoho. But he says it, anyway, and he means it from the depths of his heart. Forming words might come as a struggle, but everything he lets slip is true, heartfelt. And Geonhak appreciates it, treasures him just a little more for it.

When Geonhak mutters against Seoho’s lips, he fears Seoho doesn’t catch it. 

“Hyung, I love you.”

The silence that follows is expected, and Seoho’s eyes swim with more emotion than Geonhak could ever express.

And then Seoho’s pulling him back down to mould their lips together once again.

Seoho doesn’t voice his feelings that are condensed into those three words, rarely ever does compared to Geonhak. But Geonhak knows they’re there, waiting, but never leaving Seoho’s lips. And Geonhak is okay with that—because he hears it, anyway. He hears it in Seoho’s dazzling smile that is solely reserved for him, hears it in the way Seoho pulls him down for a gentle kiss that he pours so much fervour into.

And he can hear it, sitting on the tip of Seoho’s tongue.

Geonhak knows it’s there, and that’s all that matters.

For a moment, Geonhak lets himself forget. He forgets about the looming darkness that constantly creeps behind their timed euphoria, waiting to make its entrance and engulf their brief ecstasy. He lets himself forget that this is their reality—slipping into the weighted shadows and hiding from the prying eyes of the world. 

He forgets that Seoho isn’t his to keep.

At least, not yet, anyway.

Later, when they’re both sitting by the base of the tree with Geonhak’s head resting on Seoho’s shoulder, their hands intertwined in Seoho’s lap, Geonhak asks, “Hyung, do you ever think things will get better?”

Seoho is no stranger to this question, and every time, his answer remains the same.

“I don’t know, Geonhak. Only time will tell, really, and if it doesn’t will, then it won’t. Everything always happens on this earth for a reason and this… This is our test in this lifetime. The only thing we lesser beings can do is wish to be among those who are favoured by fate.”

Geonhak wonders if there’ll ever be a day where Seoho’s answer changes.

Where his answer no longer fills him with defeat but with anchored hope.

The full moon still glimmers in the sky when Geonhak pries his eyes open. The rough bark of the tree digs into the skin of his back, and his neck is sore.

They’d fallen asleep without realizing it.

There’s wiggling next to him, and then the warmth leaves his fingertips. His side is left feeling cold. His vision is bleary, but he blinks the fog out and peers up at Seoho, who’s standing and dusting himself off. He spins on his heel.

Geonhak’s heart feels icy and numb when it drops to the pit of his stomach.

“You’re… leaving?” he mutters. The words are a blinding nightmare when they slip off his tongue without his knowledge and finally sink in.

He wishes this was just a dream.

_Seoho’s leaving. Again._

Pausing, Seoho gazes back at him guiltily. Geonhak wonders if he’s imagining the brimming tears that glisten in Seoho’s eyes under the white moonlight. “I have to, Geonhak. You know I don’t have any other choice.”

“You could stay.”

Geonhak knows it’s wishful thinking. They both know it’s not possible, that Seoho can’t stay forever. Eventually, he will leave again, leave Geonhak behind. Try as they might, their contentment doesn’t last. It’s short, a small, sweet bite that leaves them craving for more. But even so, in the deepest part of Geonhak’s mind, he wishes he could be selfish and keep Seoho if it means they’ll stay together and he won’t fear waking up alone.

But he can’t, and Seoho knows that, too.

And still, he wishes. 

In the end, this is what they have to suffer with: meetings that aren’t meant to be, and a relationship that isn’t permissible. And Geonhak can’t help but blame himself—for falling in love with Seoho, for even pondering whether he was in love with Seoho. That is what led them here, and Geonhak has no one else to hold accountable but himself for wanting to try, for handing his heart over to the right person at what is possibly the wrong time.

A thumb swipes underneath Geonhak’s eye, coming off wet. Tears had accumulated without him knowing. The smile Seoho flashes him while kneeling is heavy and bittersweet.

Geonhak doesn’t like it one bit.

“You know I’ll come back. I always do.”

_For you._

The kiss that Seoho plants on his forehead is chaste, meant to be nothing more than a quick and lingering peck. But it’s not enough—it’ll never be enough—so Geonhak tugs him down with a hand curled around his nape to kiss him fully.

This isn't goodbye. It never is, but in some part of Geonhak's consciousness, he fears that it might be. That this moment is their last, that he'll never see Seoho again, never get to touch him or hold him or kiss him ever again.

The familiar ache in Geonhak’s chest is raw, clawing.

It grows like a parasite as he watches Seoho’s retreating back, farther and farther away, until he blends into the night, lost amongst its shadows.

He doesn’t know when Seoho will return. It could be tomorrow, or in a few week’s time, or in months, but he will. Geonhak knows because Seoho always returns, no matter what, because this land is his roots. It’s where he _belongs_. 

Something always draws Seoho back here, keeping him attached and longing, constantly seeking the comfort of home. And when he leaves, he leaves a piece of himself behind, a piece of him that stays with Geonhak until he returns to reclaim ownership. 

Amidst all this, Geonhak wonders if there’ll ever be a day where Seoho will stop leaving, where he’ll fall into Geonhak’s outstretched arms and know that he’s home—that he’s finally safe. He wonders if there’ll ever be a day where they’ll stop hiding behind veils, behind lies and secret, prohibited meetings—a day where he can proudly step into the light with his hand in Seoho’s without having to fear for their lives.

Without _Seoho_ fearing for his life.

But until then, they’ll continue to meet secretly, behind thickets that fall like curtains over them, sharing chaste kisses in hopes that it won’t be their last. They’ll continue to seek refuge in the shadows of the full moon and away from the light, from people’s eyes.

And so, Seoho continues to leave.

And Geonhak?

Geonhak stays, awaiting Seoho’s next return.

Hoping that the next time Seoho returns, he’ll stay.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> please consider leaving some love for this.... thing because I really don't know what this even is or why I chose to waste my entire day writing it instead of being productive in a beneficial way :""D


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